


Remember, remember...

by moonfairy13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonfire Night, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Good Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Guy Fawkes Night, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 11:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13
Summary: It's bonfire night at The Burrow, and Hermione is the only witch without someone to snuggle under the fireworks. Until she finds herself on the receiving end of a rather unexpected proposition...





	Remember, remember...

“Tell me again why it’s named after him when many people think he was a bad person, Hermione?” Arthur always found it hard to keep the excitement out of his voice when Hermione had the time to teach him about muggle history and traditions. 

Hermione was glad of the conversation, really. She had been trying really hard not to feel sad or left out. She stood between Ron and Harry in the semicircle of those around the bonfire who belonged to the Weasley family, either by blood, marriage or, like her and Harry, adoption, and pulled her coat more tightly around her body. “Because we celebrate the fact that Guy Fawkes was captured, Arthur, and his capture led to the gunpowder plot being stopped. He was hidden in the cellar with all the gunpowder and the fact that they found him in time meant that the Houses of Parliament didn’t blow up while the king and the government were in it.”

“I don’t know if we’d be as quick to celebrate it by having a bonfire and fireworks if they had,” Percy said, dryly.

“There’s a poem about it, you know?” Lauren, Charlie’s muggle girlfriend, smiled at Arthur. Like Hermione, she rather enjoyed indulging Arthur in his quest for greater knowledge of the muggle world.

The excited look on Arthur’s face suggested that he hadn’t known that. “Oh, please tell me!” He looked as excitable as a five-year-old on their first visit to Fred and George’s joke shop.

Lauren smiled. “Remember, remember the fifth of November, Gunpowder treason and plot. We see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.”

Arthur clapped in delight. “And they caught him?” 

“Yes,” she replied, “and killed him.”

“So he was like the Voldemort of his time?” That was Harry.

“Well,” said Hermione. “It sort of depends on how you look at it. People of his religion were being persecuted by the monarchy and the government at the time. So it’s more that they were planning a coup to free their people. So some might say he was the Harry Potter of his time, I suppose; fighting an oppressive government who were brutalising those with different beliefs. But it’s a bit of a heavy conversation,” she trailed off.

“Shall we talk about something nicer, then?” asked Bill. “Don’t want to spoil the fun with politics?”

“Yeah,” Ron laughed. “Reckon we’ve all had enough of that for a few years.”

“Absolutely,” Hermione replied. “We should just enjoy being together.” Wondering whether a whole-body warming charm would be too much for early November, she lifted her mug to her lips, glad of the spicy mulled cider that Charlie and Bill had served from a cauldron that they had set over the bonfire. And, even as she heard her own words, she tried hard to ignore the fact that she was the only person currently in that semicircle who wasn’t watching the display with a partner. 

She took a deep breath in and then a small sigh escaped her mouth, causing Ron and Harry to look at each other, wondering what was up. But Hermione was too busy thinking to notice. She truly knew and believed, as she watched Fred and George lift their wands on the other side of the fire and cast the spells that would set off the firework display, that she didn’t need a partner to complete her. But, she thought, as she watched George return to the semicircle, stand behind Angelina and drop a kiss on his witch’s long dark hair, it was a nice time of the year to have another warm body to lean on and watch the bonfire and fireworks with. Hermione had enjoyed the summer of celebration and recovery from the war as much as anybody. She had been glad of the freedom of being single when she had taken a flight to Australia to locate her parents, return their memories and sit through hours of conversation about the ethics of her actions until all was well again. But now she was back at The Burrow and the nights were pulling in, and that heralded the time of year when she craved hot drinks, warm jumpers and comforting hugs.

She looked around the circle at the cuddling couples as the first firework rose into the air. To her right stood Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and Lauren and then Ron and Luna. That last pairing had been a surprise, but it was a surprise that had delighted Hermione, who realised about an hour after she had kissed Ron during the Battle of Hogwarts that she had misunderstood her own feelings and loved him only as a best friend. On her left were Harry and Ginny and then Percy and Oliver, which was another surprise, for no-one would have imagined the quiet, rule-bound Weasley falling in love with the passionate and quidditch-obsessed Scot. But there they were, cosying up together; Oliver standing behind the shorter redhead, muscled arms wound protectively around Percy’s chest. But before Hermione had completed her fond appraisal with a smile at George and Angelina, a pair of long, warm and very male arms slid around her own waist from behind.

“Can I share your mug, love? Someone can’t count. Probably Charlie; all brawn and no brains, that one…”

“Hello, Fred,” she smiled, letting him take the almost-empty mug from her fingers and using her own wand to refill it from the cauldron, ensuring that at least one of his arms stayed in place. She allowed herself to believe that this was the polite thing to do, seeing as he had done a lot of the work to put the evening together. Her action had nothing at all to do with the fact that she didn’t want to lose the temporary comfort of the tall wizard’s arms. Fred settled one hand on her stomach as he lifted the mug to his lips with the other, murmuring his thanks and pulling Hermione closer to his body, encouraging her to lean back and rest her head on him so she could more easily look up at the sky.

“Oooooooh!” The collective gasp was for a spiral-shaped firework that was a new invention. The twins hadn’t had much time to work on things, what with Fred being in the hospital for a couple of weeks after the very last battle that they had all fought together. But they had announced at Sunday lunch a couple of weeks ago that they had stayed up late in their flat in order to perfect a new firework named ‘victory’ that they wanted to launch in honour of those who had fallen. Tonight, they were testing it, and one day the finished article would be the centrepiece of a massive display that the twins were discussing with officials at The Ministry of Magic.

Hermione leaned back into her friend. It was nice that Fred had come to stand with her, given that the two of them were the only unpartnered people in the group. 

“Wanted to ask you about something, love...” His voice was matter of fact, and she imagined that, unless he wished to reopen the debate about Guy Fawkes, he and George might be stuck on a product again. They had approached her two or three times recently, and she found that she was enjoying helping them solve the occasional puzzle of how to make their complex products work safely and effectively.

“What’s that then, Fred?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m planning a trip to Australia.”

She had given up being surprised by Fred Weasley’s out-of-the-blue announcements over the years, and had learned to react as if they were completely normal and expected. “Oh yes?” she replied. “Would you like some travel tips?”

Unseen by Hermione, who was still facing forward to watch the show, Fred tipped his head from side to side, considering. “Hmmm, I rather hoped you’d be my guide, really. I’ve never been on a muggle plane before. Was thinking we would go together.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected. Did it mean what she thought it might mean? She needed to check. “So you’re asking me to take you with me next spring, when I go back to see my mum and dad?”

“Mmmm, that would be great, thanks. I figure that’s probably about the right sort of timing.”

“For you to have time off from the shop?” She glanced to her left to see if George was listening to them, aware that his lost ear had been replaced by a listening device that enabled him to beak into all sorts of conversations that weren’t his concern. His face appeared to be so deep in concentration, looking at the fireworks, that she was almost certain he was only pretending to be rapt, and was actually tuned directly into what she and Fred were saying. Weasley twins were never that focused on one thing for more than four or five seconds at a time, she knew. Unless it was the invention or implementation of a product, and then their capacity for absorption knew no bounds.

“Well, more to meet your parents, love.” Fred took another sip of the cider and then offered the mug back to her.

“Your primary reason for the trip is to meet my parents?” Hermione was confused.

Fred shrugged and then nodded. “It seems only polite,” he said, resting his chin on her head and wrapping both arms around her body again, more tightly this time, as they watched Catherine wheels fly around the garden. “If I pass, we’ll have been together for about half a year by then. Of course,” he shrugged, “I can sit with you on that skype thing and say hello in the meantime, but it feels like it’d be rude to stay away when it’s a quiet time of the year for the shop.”

George and Bill exchanged a glance. Bill also had superb hearing, courtesy of a werewolf attack, but Hermione had temporarily forgotten that. Out of sight of the rest of their family, but much to George’s amusement, Bill began to move his gloved fingers, counting the number of seconds it took until Hermione responded.

He was just about the extend his fourth finger when Hermione turned herself around in Fred’s arms so that she could look directly into his face. “If you pass?” she asked. “Pass what, Fred?” He wasn’t making any sense.

“Oh, whatever tests and trials and traps you’ve dreamed up over the years to help you find a wizard who’s worthy of your love.” His hand cupped her cheek. “I assume there’s a Granger-y equivalent of the Tri-Wizard tournament for any man who sets his sights on your hand, so I thought I’d cast my name into the Goblet of Fire, so to speak. No aging potion this time,” he chuckled, giving Hermione a small squeeze with the arm that was still around her. “And definitely no George. In fact, I’ll fight off all the other entrants first. Clear the field so I’m the only competitor…”

Now all the Weasleys were listening. George had temporarily paused the firework display so they could watch, although he flicked a few time-release dungbombs towards the bonfire in the hope that Hermione would hear the smaller pops and wouldn’t realise that anything was amiss. 

“Are you asking me out, Fred?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t know if that’s acceptable terminology to you, love, so it’s more that I’m letting you know that I’d like to be yours. If you’d let me take you out, that would be lovely. Or you could take me out, if you prefer, or we could take each other… Or,” he leaned in a bit closer, tipping her face gently towards his own, “given the weather, we could just declare ourselves an item, stay home where the biscuits are, and snog on the sofa…”

Hermione wasn’t sure when she had slipped her arms around his back, but she suddenly because aware that they were holding each other very closely, and a blush crossed her face. It wasn’t that she had never thought of Fred Weasley in this way. She had fantasised about him declaring an interest in her plenty of times in her younger years, but had never dreamed that the gorgeous, popular, extraverted wizard would be looking for someone as quiet or as bookish as she was. “You and me?” she asked, wanting to double check that she had heard correctly.

Fred nodded, stroking her face. “Thought I could spend the autumn and winter auditioning. You know, provide a comfy lap for you to cuddle up on while you read, bring you hot tea in bed in the cold winter mornings, that sort of thing.” When she didn’t protest, he continued, his mouth moving closer to her ear. “Help you change into a dry, warm jumper after we beat George and Angie at snowballs, keep you warm through the cold nights…” 

Despite his proximity, Fred’s voice was just as cheerful and almost as loud as ever, and that was the point at which Hermione suddenly realised that their family and friends were all listening closely to the conversation. A smile crossed her own face, as she glanced across at Lauren. Her eyes met those of the muggle woman who Charlie had brought home out of the blue and who she got on so well with. Then she looked to her other side and raised her eyebrows at Ginny, who laughed and winked.

Hermione turned back to Fred, raising her eyebrows. “And you’re open to the necessary trials and tests, you say?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. Looking forward to the challenge, in fact. Bring it on.”

“Alright then.” She had spent enough time saving others and thinking ahead. If ever there was a time to throw caution to the wind and have some fun, this was it. She ignored the gasps of delight from Molly and Ginny. “Perhaps you could begin by demonstrating your ability to create us some privacy by getting the real fireworks going again and distracting everyone from looking at us. Our mug needs refilling, by the way.” She held it up to illustrate her point. “I’d like you to hug me while I watch your fireworks and,” she leaned closer, so that now only George and Bill could hear, “later, you can show me if you’re as good at snogging as the graffiti in the girls’ loos in the seventh-floor corridor proclaims you are…” 

Before she could turn around again, Fred pressed a small but toe-curling kiss to Hermione’s lips. “I’ll do all that and more, love. Just you wait…” Gently, he turned her in his arms and hugged her to his body in the same way that Oliver was holding Percy and George was cuddling Angelina; one hand on her tummy and the other arm reaching across her chest to keep her warmly wrapped up from the cold. He encouraged her to relax and lean her weight back on his chest again. She definitely didn’t need a warming charm now.

Hermione took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the cold air mingled with smoke, the mulled cider and a whiff of gunpowder from the fireworks. Although, she thought, as she eyed the supper table which Molly and Arthur had laden with steaming baked potatoes, hot sausages and roasted vegetables, Fred pretty much always smelled of gunpowder. It was quite fitting, she supposed, as she nestled back into him, watching the re-started fireworks and allowing herself to imagine some very un-Hermione-like thoughts about reading books while snuggled up in his lap. Now, they would have even more reason to celebrate bonfire night every year.


End file.
